


Morphine

by babybrotherdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Aid, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Young Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 20:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10861497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/babybrotherdean
Summary: Sam doesn’t think he’s ever been this scared in his entire life.





	Morphine

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt when I wanted some hurt!smallish!Dean: "dean needs a field shot of morphine. sammy is there. hurt and comfort galore pleasaaseree"
> 
> This is. Dumb and soft. Brothers? Dad. Dean is not having a good day.

“Sam, get his hands. Hold him still. _Now_.”

Sam doesn’t think he’s ever been this scared in his entire life.

He wasn’t even supposed to come on this hunt. Dean’s been fighting it every step of the way, telling their dad at every opportunity that he’s too young, that it’s too dangerous, that Sam should stay out of the line of fire and do their research for him the way he usually does. Dad had insisted, though, and Sam wanted to prove himself, and it wasn’t going to be a big deal. A salt and burn; a quick in-and-out. Textbook. Straightforward right up until it suddenly wasn’t.

A supposed restless spirit ended up being not one, but _two_ extremely powerful poltergeists- a couple who’d gone down together in a violent murder-suicide, leaving them both vengeful and aggressive, and turning the hunt from a milk run into a complete disaster. Even now that they’re done with the spirits, the both of them gone up in flames once they found the halfway-decomposed bodies, there’s- there’s _Dean._

Sam hadn’t seen it happen, off in the next room struggling to get the lighter going, but he’d heard his brother’s cry of pain, and he’d gotten a glimpse of the aftermath before Dad barked at him to fetch the first aid kit from the car. A big chunk of wood, like an unrefined stake that’d been ripped off a crumbling piece of furniture, right through Dean’s shoulder. Lots of blood. 

It’d been hard not to throw up while he stumbled his way to the car, but Sam managed. He knew they couldn’t afford the wasted seconds.

He’s back now, and Dad’s not taking any chances or cutting any corners. Sam’s already heard the word “hospital” more than once, mostly Dad just mumbling under his breath- keeps him calm, Sam thinks, and helps him keep his head on straight- but Dean’s in no shape to move, and God, he’s still conscious, looking up at them with big, tear-shiny eyes, a little glazed because he’s got to be in shock right now, and breathing quick and uneven like a scared animal.

Sam doesn’t know what to do.

“Sam.” He snaps back to attention when Dad says his name, though, and he looks up, heart beating hard and fast in his throat as he tries not to focus on how much blood is soaking into Dean’s ruined shirt. “You’re gonna have to hold his arms. I don’t want him tryin’ to hit me while I do this.”

“Do what?” Sam asks, unbidden, his fear and panic seeping through the composure he’s supposed to have. He _needs_ to be composed right now, because that’s what Dad needs. That’s what _Dean_ needs, because Dean’s the one on the floor, barely conscious and mumbling nonsense and he’s only nineteen, barely an adult himself, and if Sam’s too young to be here, then God knows Dean should be doing something better with himself, too. Not this. 

Anything but this.

Dad exhales, slow and even, and fixes Sam with a steady look. There’s fear in his eyes, too, buried deep but peeking through, and it hits Sam all at once that he isn’t the only one trying not to panic. Dad’s worried about this, too. He doesn’t want to lose Dean, either. “He’s not going anywhere like this,” Dad says, and his voice is a little bit softer now, though no less urgent. “I’m going to give him something to help him relax and ease the pain, and then we’re going to have to... deal with this.” He glances at the chunk of wood and his lips press together hard. “We just- we’re going to deal with it.”

It isn’t much, but it gives Sam room to breathe and he nods tightly. They’re going to deal with it. They’re going to fix this.

Dean’s going to be okay.

Sam shifts to sit up near his brother’s head and tries to smile for him, watching as Dean’s eyes dart around nervously before settling on his face. “Hey, Dean,” he whispers, and he takes his brother’s hands and watches Dad prepare a syringe in the corner of his eye. “You’re gonna be okay. We just- we just gotta get this outta you, right?”

It takes Dean a long moment to respond, and his laugh is unsteady, but the fingers on his good side curl gently around Sam’s. “S’just a big splinter,” he mumbles, eyes closing for a moment before he visibly forces himself to open them again. “Gonna... gonna get a big pair o’ tweezers, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Sam manages a tiny smile and rubs his thumb over Dean’s hand. He doesn’t watch what Dad’s doing anymore, just listening to the rustling of shifting clothes. It’s oddly quiet, for everything that’s happening, and it just makes Sam all the more aware of the blood rushing in his ears. “And we’ll get you a big bandaid to match. Like- like a Barbie one or somethin’.”

“C’mon, not Barbie. S’gotta be somethin’ cool.” Dean’s expression falters for a moment, and when Sam looks up, he sees why- Dad’s just slipped the needle into Dean’s arm, and he’s pressing down on the plunger, sending some clear liquid into Dean’s body. Morphine, Sam’s brain supplies. They keep morphine in the first aid kit. For emergencies. “Get me like... I dunno. GI Joe. Or dinosaurs. Dinosaurs are cool.”

Sam’s eyes return to his brother, and Dean’s already looking a little bit softer around the edges. Dad’s lifting his arm, and Sam squeezes his other hand, just holding eye contact for now. Trying to keep him distracted. “Yeah, alright,” he agrees. “I’ll find you something with dinosaurs on it. A really big bandaid.”

“Good.” Dean huffs softly, and he closes his eyes again. Sam tries real hard not to panic, but Dean keeps talking and sets his nerves a little more at ease. “Better be one of the cool ones, too. Like... like a t-rex. Or- what’re the ones that run around in gangs?”

The lines in Dean’s face are smoothing out, and Sam suspects that the morphine is doing its job. “Velociraptors?” he offers while Dad gets to work on something else- the wood. He’s got a serrated blade, and after packing the base where it meets Dean’s body, he’s started very carefully sawing through the wood. It’s messy, but it’s the best they can do with what they’ve got. “The ones from Jurassic Park?”

“Yeah, s’right.” Dean hums, and Sam catches a sliver of green as his eyes peek open once more. “Those ones. We should- we should get one. You always wanted a dog, right?”

Sam isn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, so he squeezes Dean’s hand, instead, fighting a smile. “Right, because they’re basically just puppies.”

“Exactly.” Dean seems satisfied with that, and that’s when Dad finishes up- he gets the bulk of the wood out of the way and now it’s just the bit that’s still inside Dean, the bit that they can’t safely remove on their own. Dad’s already starting to gather Dean up in his arms, and Sam doesn’t let go of his brother’s hand as they stand up, Dean seeming rather unaffected by the whole thing. He blinks, and he hiccups, and he rests his head against Dad’s chest. “Just... scaly puppies.”

“Let’s go,” Dad says quietly, and Sam doesn’t hesitate to follow him, eager to get to a hospital and hand off Dean to the professionals. “Town’s only fifteen minutes out.”

Sam just nods, and it’s quiet again for a long moment before Dean speaks up, just as they start to load him into the car’s back seat, sounding sleepy and suspicious. “Dad? D’you get taller?”

At least the morphine is doing its job.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
